


24 Hours (and a Lifetime with You)

by KAZ1167



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Oh and some sexytimes for MakoHaru, Primarily focused on MakoHaru but Reigisa and Rintori are definitely present, Reminiscing, Written before Free! ES so technically an AU now?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAZ1167/pseuds/KAZ1167
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few years of city life, Makoto and Haru move back to their sleepy hometown and into Haru's old house.  As they unpack and their friends visit, old memories resurface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	24 Hours (and a Lifetime with You)

**Author's Note:**

> What is that summary. I don't even know. I wrote this in response to this prompt on tumblr: "MakoHaru in the future. After college or whenever. Something about how they live together and getting together with their friends and reminiscing."
> 
> When I started this, I thought “Ok, that’ll be easy!” and then I got really excited and threw 8000 of my headcanons into this. Makoto, Haruka, and Rin are around 25-26 years old in this. I also don't live or go to school in Japan; I'm not sure how graduate school programs work there and based what I incorporated off of what little I know about these things. Oh, and this is my first time writing an actual sex scene for MakoHaru (I hope it's good...) Please forgive the corny title, it came to mind after writing maybe three sentences of this and just stuck.
> 
> I apologize for any typos that may be lurking in this fic. I can't even tell you have many times I've read through it, but I always seem to miss some.

_Saturday, 8am_

The alarm on his phone chimes brightly and Makoto awakes with a bleary sense of deja vu. It’s comforting yet strange, moving back to the place they grew up. After years of living in a cramped apartment with low ceilings and small windows, of overlooking a bleary alleyway in Tokyo, buried under textbooks, anatomical diagrams, and blueprints, they had returned to the place  _they_  began. He has stared up at this same ceiling, glanced out this same window, watched the same boy sleeping peacefully beside him before; it all feels comfortably familiar, yet starkly different now that this ceiling, this window, this bed, are as much his as they are the blue-eyed boy’s.

Less than a month after Makoto had finished his residency program, they decided to move back to Iwatobi and into Haru’s old house (a “wedding gift” from his parents, despite the absence of an actual wedding). Having arrived yesterday, they had haphazardly made their way through boxes—half of the kitchen appliances had been unpacked and stored away, Makoto’s textbooks on physical therapy had been shelved neatly, Haru’s jammers (still his preference over boxers or briefs, just in case the opportunity to leap into a body of water presented itself) were slowly filling their drawers. Haru’s old room was shaping up into a studio of sorts for Haru, a place for his designs—composed of clean cut lines and walls of windows—to take shape. At the end of the night, Haru had smiled, lightly, openly,  _freely_ , and Makoto kissed him, long and hard, before carrying him up the stairs to the new bed that had arrived earlier in the day. It certainly wasn’t the first time they had made love in Haru’s house, but it was the first time he woke up beside Haru in  _their_  bed, in  _their_  room,  _in their house_.

That thought settles over him like a warm blanket as he turns to face his lover, taking in the milky skin and smooth lines of his back. Haru has always been a fan of Makoto’s back, broad and muscular (or so he’s been told by Haru), but Makoto loves the way Haru’s sharp shoulders plunge into a slim waist, how his muscles pull smoothly with fluid motions, and the stark angles of his shoulder blades. Makoto traces his hand down his back, his thumb trailing down his spine, before kissing the base of his neck. The raven-colored hair brushing against Makoto’s forehead moves and Makoto smiles against his skin.

"Good morning, Haru."

Haru doesn’t reply, but he groans and slides back into Makoto’s embrace as Makoto curls his arm around him. Makoto smiles wider, his breathy, whispered laugh ghosting over Haru’s skin. He lets him rest a few minutes more, drawing patterns against the muscles of Haru’s abdomen with his hand before moving to a particularly ticklish spot just under his ribcage.

"Don’t you dare."

"Well I have to wake you up some way, don’t I?" His hand stills, promising he won’t actually attack his sleepy prey, but Haru turns over anyways and stares up at him, a deadpan look that Makoto has always found endearing etched across his face.

Haru yawns, stretches his arm up and cards his hand through Makoto’s hair; he tilts his head into the touch of thin fingers against his scalp, letting his eyes close.

"It’s Saturday, Makoto."

"And we have to finish unpacking. My parents want to drop by at eleven, I think, and Nagisa and Rei said they’d be here at noon. I know they’re going to help us unpack, but we should get more done before they come over," he says as he leans down and lightly kisses Haru’s cheek, nuzzling into the crook of Haru’s neck, "but you know I’d stay in bed with you all day if we could."

As he pulls back, the hand in his hair tightens slightly, and Haru’s lips find the edge of his jaw and the corner of his mouth, before settling on his lips. Makoto used to shy away from morning kisses when they had first started dating but now he looks forward to them every night as he falls asleep. What starts slow and sweet becomes warmer, harder, faster, and Haru’s hand in his hair holds him firmly to his lips, a moan filling Haru’s mouth when he moves to press against him.

“Time?” Haru’s question comes out breathless, rushed against Makoto’s lips like he doesn’t want to waste the second it takes away from their kissing to ask that question.  Arms wrapping around Haru’s torso, Makoto groans as he turns to check the time on his phone while pulling Haru atop him, his own back pressing into the mattress.

“8:20.”

"And your parents will be here at eleven?" Haru kisses down Makoto’s neck, sucking at the sensitive skin, as his hands move lower, marking a path for his mouth to follow. Makoto tilts his head back, his hands clasping Haru’s soft hair as he kisses and sucks and bites his way down Makoto’s chest.  He nods when Haru’s mouth makes it to the "v" of his hips, and dully notes that his "yes" sounds more like a moan than he intended when Haru slides the length of him into his mouth.

_10:55am_

“Haru, my parents will be here in five minutes.”

Haru looks up from his submerged position in their tub, water covering everything but his eyes and the top of his head. There are moments where Makoto seriously wonders about his boyfriend’s priorities, not that his choices ever really surprise him.

“You need to get dressed.”

No response. Makoto turns to leave the bathroom, crossing his arms and casually leaning against the door frame as he contemplates the most effective way to lure Haru out of the tub.

“I think I’m going to make brunch.”

A displeased gaze flicks his way. They both know that Makoto, despite Haru’s best efforts, is still a train wreck in the kitchen.

“It’s a shame we only have that one serving of mackerel left since we haven’t had time to run to the store. But I’m sure I can make it just the way you like.”

The water in the tub sloshes loudly and Haru pulls a fluffy, light green towel around him. Makoto tries (and fails) to hide his smile as Haru stalks past him and into their room.

_12:00pm_

“Mako-chan! Haru-chan!!”

The doorbell rings three times in quick succession before Nagisa throws the door open and enters, a flustered Rei grasping the sleeve of Nagisa’s neon green hoodie in an effort clearly meant to restrain his smaller companion. Makoto can hear them well before he makes it out of Haru’s studio and down the stairs.

"Nagisa, you cannot just barge in! This is their house!"

"I called them and rang the doorbell, Rei-chan! I gave them plenty of time to make themselves presentable if they were  _busy_.”

"It’s not about—you only—it’s just common courtesy!"

Clearly not bothered by Rei’s scolding, Nagisa winks and places a kiss on Rei’s flushed cheek just as Makoto catches sight of them and grins.

"It’s alright, Rei. It’s so good to see you both again! Thank you for offering to help us unpack."

Nagisa practically beams as he crosses and throws his arms around Makoto. Nagisa had grown since high school, had almost caught up to Haru, but still remained the shortest in their group (no one had expected Nitori to end up a centimeter taller than Rin, a fact that was still a sore spot for the shark-toothed swimmer). He may have been older and taller, but his sense of style and conscious decision to be a walking rainbow hadn’t changed. Makoto can barely keep track of the colorful blur as he darts from room to room looking for Haru.

“He’s upstairs in his old bedroom.” The blond bounds up the stairs, two at a time, in response.

“Makoto-senpai, you look well. Did your move go smoothly?” Rei looks like a spitting image of his high school self, with his hair kept short and a new pair of red-framed glasses.

“It went well—”

They hear “HARU-CHAN!” followed by a loud thump and Rei’s face drops before he too runs up the stairs, his chiding remarks almost inaudible over Nagisa’s laughter.

Makoto can’t help but laugh as he makes his way up to Haru’s studio, knowing he’ll find Rei scrambling to untangle an overly affectionate Nagisa from an almost (but not entirely) passive Haru.

Some things never change.

_2:45pm_

Makoto sits back against the cupboard, looking over the finished kitchen. They had successfully unpacked nearly everything in both the living room and kitchen, with only a few boxes left untouched. He rolls his neck, alleviating some of the stiffness in his shoulders, and knows he could move to one of the empty seats at the kitchen table, but he’s content with his spot on the floor, occasionally reaching over to playfully touch Haru’s foot or leg as he prepares a late lunch for the four of them. Haru lightly kicks or scoots away from Makoto’s harmlessly wandering hands, but the small smile on his face and the fact he always ends up slightly closer to Makoto’s spot on the floor than he was before makes Makoto smile brightly.

”Isn’t it amazing we’re all still together?”

Makoto looks up at the blond who has crumpled over the table, arms sprawled across the surface, his voice muffled by the makeshift pillow of his hoodie. Rei curiously glances down at his boyfriend, waiting for him to continue.

"I mean, isn’t it usually rare for people to end up with the person they started dating in high school? But there’s you and Haru-chan, me and Rei-chan, RinRin and Aii-chan… And we’ve all stayed friends, even though Rei-chan and I were in America for his graduate program for a bit and we’ve been spread all over Japan the past few years." Nagisa sits up then, looking over at Rei before glancing at Haru and Makoto. "It’s just really something amazing!"

There’s a comfortable quiet for a moment as Makoto and Rei smile back at Nagisa, before Haru breaks the silence.

"We’re a team. We experienced good and bad moments together, knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and stayed by each other’s sides through it all. Everything that happened back then made us a family…that doesn’t just go away with distance. We may not swim relays anymore, but we’re still a team."

For a second, all Makoto can do is stare up at Haru in his way that still makes Haru glance away and blush. Haru has always had a way of knocking him breathless, and this is one of those moments where he can’t believe he gets to spend his life with him. He thinks of that night on the deserted island, the four of them surrounded by stars overhead and in the reflective puddles on the roof, and the seconds he stole just to look at Haru’s face in that moment. He thinks of the festival, of the energy and passion in Haru’s eyes when he decided to swim with  _them_  again. He thinks of the relay and offering Haru his hand, the jolt that shot through him when Haru’s eyes met his and he smiled, and the way Haru kissed him when they got back to Haru’s house that night.

Rei links his hand with Nagisa’s and brings it to his lips, and Makoto smiles, knowing they have memories and moments of their own within their shared history. Nagisa smiles, wide, and begins telling stories about his job, letting go of Rei’s hand to emphatically gesture at the right spots throughout the story. From his spot on the floor, Makoto watches as the two play footsie under the kitchen table, glances up at his own blushing boyfriend, and thinks Nagisa is right: this is something special.

_5:40pm_

The doorbell chimes once before Nagisa scrambles from his spot on Haru’s couch, insisting Makoto and Haru stay put. The gleeful greeting coming from the entry can only mean one thing.

"Sorry we’re a little late, we got held up in traffic and Ai got lost halfway here." Rin’s shark-toothed grin is teasing as he wanders into Haru’s living room, black jacket hanging over his shoulder.

"That’s not true, if you hadn’t distracted me and made me pull off to—" Ai’s face lights up in a flush, his bright blue eyes offset by his pink cheeks. Bowl cut gone, his short, silver hair and thin frame still fit his energy, despite his surprising height. Rin, with his unkempt ruby locks and lithe but muscular physique, steps in next to him, hooking his fingers through the belt loops on Ai’s hips.

"I’m sorry, just what did I make us  _do_ , Ai?” Rin raises his eyebrows suggestively, daring him to continue his sentence, pressing close to the silver-haired boy, only worsening Ai’s blush, before Nagisa’s laughter bursts through the room and he pulls Ai away to sit beside him.

"N-nothing! How have you been, Makoto-senpai, Haruka-senpai? It looks like you’re all unpacked."

"We’re almost done. Our room and Haru’s studio are all that’s left to finish." Makoto offers, as Haru stands, heads for the stairs, and gestures for Ai to follow.

"Nitori, I meant to email you about my next project. It’s going to be a green-space with a rooftop garden. I could use your insight on it." Ai’s eyes spark—as a plant enthusiast and landscape architect’s should—and he’s already posing questions as they make their way upstairs. Rei mumbles something about careful plant selection before following, and Nagisa trails behind, nodding along as his boyfriend begins putting together combinations of plants that would survive in specific environments yet still look beautiful.

Rin relaxes into his seat, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. He had become more like his pre-Australia-self overtime, vibrant and teasing, although it had been a slow process. Makoto knows he still has his moments (he and Haru had both been on the receiving end of a few rough phone calls while he was training for the Olympics), but the Rin across from him is  _happy now_ and that’s all that matters to him.

"So how does it feel to be back in Iwatobi?"

"It’s nice. A little surreal, but it feels like home. I know Haru missed being this close to the ocean. I think he tried to sneak out a few times while we were unpacking yesterday, and I’m pretty sure he was talking to the ocean during our drive out here at one point…" Makoto says and Rin laughs, head thrown back against the sofa.

"That doesn’t surprise me." He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, his face suddenly serious, as if debating saying something. "I think we might move back in the next few years, actually."

"Before or after the 2024 Olympics?" Makoto’s tone is gently questioning, knowing this isn’t really as a light a topic as they’re making it.

"It’s looking like it’ll be after, but we’ll see in the next year or so," Rin sits up at that, crossing his arms over his chest, "my times are still good right now, but I’m not as consistent as I used to be. I think I’ll be able to push through to ‘24, but some kid as naturally talented as Haru with my drive could pop up in the next year and then who knows."

"And…?"

"I think I’m okay with however it works out. I’d love to sweep all the butterfly events, but it isn’t exactly like I left empty handed last time. I’m not pining over the gold or some unfinished dream," a small smile crosses Rin’s face as he leans forward, uncrossing his arms and resting them on his knees (Makoto nods, Rin had taken home a gold medal, two silver, and the team bronze in the medley in 2020, after all).

"Well, whenever it’s best for the two of you, it’ll be nice to have you and Nitori around."

"Yeah. Ai’s supportive of everything, no matter what happens, but I know he likes it out here more than Tokyo. I found this sketch he’d done a while ago of an older house and a big garden, with all these purple-ish flowers, and I-uh," he clears his throat, a pink blush dusting his cheeks as he catches himself and the mushy sentiment he’s tiptoeing around, "he’d just like it."

"I’m sure he would." Makoto smiles warmly at that and, much to Makoto’s amusement, Rin’s face flushes further before he glances at his watch, clears his throat again, and stands.

"We should probably gather the rest of our idiot friends if we’re going to make it to the restaurant by six." Rin makes for the stairs, hands in his pockets, forever attempting to keep his romantic side hidden.

 

_8:30pm_

The warm night holds the lingering heat of the day as Makoto and Haru walk home from the restaurant. Couples and families pass them, voices and laughter filling the night air before they turn down their normal course, the streets quieting, a hush enveloping them. Haru reaches for Makoto’s hand, twining their fingers before lightly squeezing. For reasons Makoto can’t quite pinpoint, his heart still skips at the small act as memories from nearly 10 years ago rush over him. It’s not precisely the same walk home from Iwatobi High, but the warmth that fills his chest when Haru tugs lightly on his arm as their hands swing between them is unchanged.

"Makoto," he pulls gently on Makoto’s arm, temporarily putting their walk home on pause. "Look."

Makoto follows Haru’s gaze to the ocean at their side, the clear waters crawling across the sand slowly and the surface reflecting the night sky overhead.  Despite their short visits back to Iwatobi during college and graduate school, they haven’t seen their town’s little piece of ocean like this for years.  Makoto watches Haru’s eyes shine at the sight and starts guiding Haru toward the sand as he speaks.

"It isn’t that late yet.  Want to walk on the beach?"  

"Mm."

They pull off their sandals, holding them in their free hands and letting the tide lap at their ankles as they walk the stretch of cool sand before them.  Usually, Makoto would fill the quiet with aimless chatter—comments about the night’s dinner, the remaining move-in chores, whatever comes to mind—but tonight he’s quiet, simply enjoying the sounds of their footsteps breaking the surface of the water and the echoes of their sleepy town.  

Haru stops in his place and tosses his shoes casually out of the reach of the waves, and Makoto follows suit.  A rising part of him is concerned he’s merely seconds away from having to stop Haru from striping and diving into the ocean, but Haru slides his arms around him in a loose embrace and rests his head against his collarbone instead, his breath warm against Makoto’s skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

"I’m glad we’re back." Makoto wraps his arms around him, one arm around his back, the other around his shoulders, his hand sliding into Haru’s hair, before he kisses the top of his head.  

Haru nods slightly against his chest and he presses a kiss right above Makoto’s heart, a whisper of “ _We’re home”_ as he pulls back slowly before resting his head against his chest again, gazing at the ocean _._  It’s a simple action, one that shouldn’t make Makoto’s eyes mist over, but he finds himself blinking rapidly, determined not to get overly emotional, while he places soft kisses on raven hair. 

 

_10:45pm_

Makoto finishes hanging up the last of his clothing as he glances around the bedroom. He expects Haru to stay in the tub for at least ten more minutes, so he moves to finish unpacking Haru’s last suitcase of clothing, hanging up the button downs he’s grown used to seeing on him.  As he unfolds layer by layer, he finds an envelope tucked within the garments, labeled “Makoto”.  He  _should_  leave it unopened, but he’s never seen this item before and it  _does_  say his name…

He sits down on the edge of the bed and opens the little metal clasp keeping the mustard-colored envelope shut, gently pouring out the contents on their sheets.  He first processes the familiar, worn, brown strap of a bracelet, the studs that decorate the band lacking the silver shine they once held.  He picks up the item, letting his fingers run over the ripples and ridges in the old fabric.  _Our couples bracelet._   They hadn’t worn them in years, but he still had his too, tucked away in his own little case of treasures.  Suddenly a heat rushes over him, a conflicting desire to pack away the items ( _because these are Haru’s memories_ ) and look over each one ( _but they’re our memories_ …) making his heart beat quickly.  

There’s a ticket from their first “real” date at the aquarium, a newspaper clipping about their relay team after they won nationals in their third year, and a picture of Makoto swimming backstroke, probably from one of their last practices in high school.  He finds the horrible, slightly terrifying drawing of a dolphin that he made in an effort to cheer up Haru when he was sick with the flu for a week during their first year of university, and a picture he knows is from Nagisa, of Haru leaning against Makoto while they sit on the beach.  He brushes his finger over a scrap of paper he vaguely remembers, a note he had given to Haru in high school with nothing but an “I love you” written on it in black ink.  The last little grouping of papers is a collection of sketches in a style he recognizes as Haru’s, some on napkins and notebook paper, others on small cards of sketchbook paper, held together by a single paperclip.  He thumbs through them gently, noting that they’re all differing sketches of him—he’s sleeping in one, hunched over his textbook in another, and a few are just of his face, green eyes of varying shades penciled in on the more thought-out pieces.

“It’s rude to go through other people’s things.”

His head snaps up at the voice and he stands reflexively, dropping the sketches on the bed.  Haru isn’t looking at him as he runs a towel over his hair, but Makoto can still make out the pink flush covering his cheeks.  It could be from the heated bath he’s just left, but Makoto suspects that it has everything to do with the items sprawled upon their sheets.

Makoto accepted years ago that he exists in a constant state of wanting to kiss Haru, but there are moments when the urge is too much to ignore, the need to feel Haru’s lips against his too pressing, and he simply  _has_  to kiss him or he’ll be unable to focus the rest of the day; this moment ranks in his top ten, without a doubt.  Makoto knows that Haru loves him—he hears it in his voice, he feels it in his touch, he lives it every day—but  _this_  sends the feeling of  _being loved_  flooding through him in a far too pleasant rush.  Makoto isn’t the possessive type, but he wants all of Haru—his warm mouth, his elegant neck, his hard chest, everything—under his own mouth and hands  _now_. 

“Haruka…”

Haru looks up at him then, the usage of his full name and the way it falls off of Makoto’s tongue drawing his attention immediately.  Makoto closes the distance between them, one hand pulling Haru closer while the other tangles in his damp hair, and Makoto presses his lips against Haru’s.  His kiss is warm and heavy, full of everything that  _is_  Makoto, and Haru drops the towel in his hand to the floor as he grips at Makoto’s hair and moans into Makoto’s mouth.  

Makoto’s hands move down over the worn fabric of the yellow and orange shirt he used to call his own covering Haru’s chest, before sliding his hands up under the thin material, tracing over every muscle, every inch of skin beneath his fingers.  He pulls Haru flush against him, his thumbs pressing against the edges of his hip bones, before finally breaking their kiss to gasp heavily and pull the shirt up and over Haru’s head, followed by his own t-shirt.  Haru moves to his neck first, sucking a wet trail of kisses from down his jaw to across his collarbone, as he runs his hands down Haru’s arms and back, his hands settling on the firm muscles of Haru’s butt. 

They break for a second and move to the bed, Makoto’s hands refusing to leave his skin as he glides them down his sides and over his waist, pressing open-mouthed kisses against Haru’s neck and the back of his shoulders, and Haru hastily gathers everything from his envelope into a pile and places it on the floor.  The mood is heavy, needy, and full of want, but, for a second, Makoto breaks it as he playfully pushes against Haru’s ass as he bends over.  The glare he gets in return makes him smile, before Haru stands and turns quickly, catching him off guard, pushing him onto the bed, and climbing on top of him, straddling Makoto’s hips.  He drags his hips against Makoto’s in repeated fluid motions, and Makoto closes his eyes momentarily, tilting his head back into the covers, enjoying the friction caused by Haru’s body and Makoto’s jeans, yet desperately needing there to be less clothing between them.  Haru seems to read his mind as his hands tug at the belt at Makoto’s waist before standing at the foot of the bed, pulling Makoto’s jeans and boxers off (his own boxers as well), before he once more moves to his place atop Makoto.  Haru’s erection presses against his own as he rubs against him, and he bites back a groan before grabbing his arms and flipping their positions. 

Some nights (other nights) their touches are slow and languid, each drinking in the other, a build-up ushered carefully by gentler hands and patient, goading whispers of love.  On nights like this, they are heavy-handed and quick to unravel under each other's knowing mouths and hands, pushing and pulling with every moan and gasp.  Makoto wants a chorus of his name spilling from Haru's lips when he slides two slick fingers into him, Haru wants the gorgeous mewling, moaning sounds Makoto makes when he wraps his hand around him, stroking with a perfected pressure, and they both give what the other wants easily. 

Haru lies under him, arms encircling his chest, pulling him as close as possible (Haru is surprisingly gluttonous for skin-on-skin contact when they make love) as Makoto lines himself up and slowly pushes into him. He pulls out, drawing a moan from Haru's lips when he slides back in, his pace steadily increasing when he finds the spot that makes Haru gasp out Makoto's name like a curse word.  He grabs at Haru's hips, adjusting and angling him the right way so he'll keep hitting that spot, before supporting himself with one arm as he reaches between them, stroking Haru at a speed that matches the pace he's set with his thrusts.  

Haru falls first, always quiet just before he does, his mouth slightly open, only the sound of gasping breaths telling Makoto to  _keep going, keep going, don't stop_.  Feeling the aftershocks of Haru's orgasm pulsing around him, hearing Haru's voice break in gasps--it's enough to push Makoto over the edge.  He moans against the skin of Haru's neck as he comes and hears his name half-whispered against his ear, the words barely holding the even-toned notes of Haru's voice. He stills for a moment before he pulls back to meet Haru's gaze, the barely-there rims of blue conveying more love than he believes he deserves ( _because he's the lucky one in this relationship; Haru has always been his universe and he's simply lucky to be a small, flickering star in it_ ), but for a second, he allows himself to embrace the notion that he just may be Haru's ocean, his world, his everything, too. 

 

_Sunday, 8am_

Makoto hears his alarm go off, having forgotten to turn it off the night before, and reluctantly rolls over to silence the chiming tune.  He glances out the window, watching as little pellets of rain dully drum against the glass, their room still dark under the grey clouds littering the sky.

"It's raining."

Makoto smiles knowingly at the voice behind him, turning over to face shimmering blue eyes that seem far too awake.  He lies flat against the bed as Haru scoots closer, laying his head on Makoto's chest, his arm across his stomach.  Makoto absentmindedly runs his hand up and down Haru's arm, peering down at his boyfriend with minor curiosity.

"Have you been up long?" Haru shakes his head slightly against his chest, staring out the window. 

"Maybe ten minutes or so before your alarm went off.  I think the rain woke me up."

The drops pattering against their roof and window are hardly enough to wake someone up, but Haru's connection with all things water doesn't surprise Makoto anymore. 

"Do you want to get up?"  Maybe Haru wants to go stand in their backyard in the rain or take a bath.  Even rain like this has a tendency to trigger Haru's need to immerse himself in a body of water, but Haru's quiet, watching the streams of water race down their window.

"Let's just stay here for a little while longer."

Makoto's hand pauses for a second, honestly caught off guard by his response, before continuing its back-and-forth path on Haru's arm. 

"Ok."

In the midst of the rain’s soft pattering on their window and Haru’s even-breathing on his chest, Makoto drifts back to sleep, his wispy dreams painted in light blues and greys that are comforting and warm.  He awakes sometime later to the sound of low-rolling thunder and Haru curled against him, fast asleep.  As he glances out their window and gently pulls Haru closer, Makoto resolves to spend the rest of their Sunday tangled in the sheets of their bed, in their cozy room, in the house where they began.

 


End file.
